


(if you hurry) you can still catch the tide

by mischief7manager



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:23:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9037100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischief7manager/pseuds/mischief7manager
Summary: "For as long as she could remember, Pike Trickfoot had loved the sea. And for its part, the sea seemed, in its own way, to love her back.
Until the day the woman washed ashore."
When Pike stumbles on a woman in need of her help, she doesn't hesitate to give it. But nothing can stay secret forever, and the beautiful and mysterious Keyleth brings with her dangers Pike could never have predicted.





	1. saw your light on so i came to find you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheAwkwardPinCushion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAwkwardPinCushion/gifts).



> This was written for Theo aka theawkwardpincushion as part of the 2016 Critical Role Secret Santa exchange. I think I'm cheating a little bit, because this was meant to be a oneshot, but then meatspace life Happened like, a lot. So. Merry Critmas, Theo, you get chapter 1 of a WIP!!!! And once I'm on break from work and have time to do, you know, anything again, you'll get the rest, I promise.
> 
> No spoilers beyond the last Westruun arc. Work and chapter title are from "Still Catch the Tide," by Talis Kimberley.

For as long as she could remember, Pike Trickfoot had loved the sea. Not the distant, abstract way that the vacationers who came to the village did, dipping their toes in and retreating to their beach towels, shrieking with how adventurous they were; nor yet the bitter, jaded way the old maritimers did, scowling into their salt-soaked beards and bemoaning the ocean like they would a cruel mistress, half hatred half desperate longing. Pike loved the sea the way a forester would love a wolf, the way a charcoal burner loved a fire: with wonder, with respect, with a healthy touch of fear, and with nothing less than the wild wholeness of her heart.

Pike loved the sea. And for its part, the sea seemed, in its own way, to love her back. It was going on five years now she and Grog had lived in their small house on the shoreline, and while it was by no means easy, the fish they caught were plentiful enough to make a living on. The storms that rolled through did no permanent or undoable damage, and their small garden provided what they couldn’t buy or trade for. Grog and her friends in the village provided all the socializing she could want. It was a hard life, filled with hard work, but it was a good one, and Pike was glad of its familiar routine.

Until the day the woman washed ashore.

 

* * *

 

They were hauling in their latest catch when Pike spotted her. It had been a long day on the water, and despite the good number of fish, Pike was more than ready to be done and have a bath and curl up under a stupid number of blankets. Early spring, while technically warmer than winter, was still, in Grog’s words, “colder than a witch’s tit,” and even Pike’s many layers couldn’t keep the damp chill from seeping into her bones.

She was just turning to Grog to check that they’d hauled in the last of the catch when something caught her eye. There on the beach, perhaps a dozen yards from the dock where they were moored, was a bundle of orange. Pike squinted. They got all kinds of flotsam and debris washing ashore, and at first she thought it some kind of fabric. Without really meaning to, she found herself walking down the dock, away from Grog and the _Guiding Bolt_. A few feet closer, and she realized the orange wasn’t fabric at all.

It was hair.

“Grog!”

She ran, feet pounding against the wood of the dock and the sand of the shore, until she slammed to her knees next to the crumpled body. The body of a woman, she saw, hair fire-bright even waterlogged and tangled as it was. She was naked, curled around herself in a protective ball, her pale skin near white with cold. Pike realized, dimly, that she was beautiful.

Then instinct took over. A lifetime of caring for the injured and the ill let Pike’s hands move without thought. She pressed two fingers under the woman’s jaw, feeling for a pulse. She found it, weak and thready, and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she held. The woman was alive. And breathing, she saw now, shallow, unsteady breaths that left tiny wisps of mist hanging in the biting air.

Grog ran up and dropped down beside her, already pulling off his enormous fur-lined coat. “Who’s she?” he asked.

Pike shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. She reached out and brushed thick strands of hair back from the woman’s face. She was young, no older than Pike herself, and at Pike’s touch she shifted, a small whimper escaping from her lips.

She shook her head again. “We need to get her warm,” she said, and Grog nodded. Together they were able to move the woman enough for Grog to wrap her in his coat. He lifted her in his arms easily, and she curled against his chest, unmoving except for the occasional shiver. “Come on,” Pike said, and they set off, quickly, for home.

“Home,” for Pike and Grog, was a small cottage a ways out from the nearest village. It was Wilhand’s first, and then Wilhand and Pike’s, and then Wilhand and Pike and Grog’s, and now, it belonged to them. It was small, two bedrooms, a washroom, an open kitchen and front room with large windows looking out on the seacliffs. They didn’t have much, Pike and Grog, but they didn’t need much, and what they had was much like they themselves: no frills or ornamentation, but solid. Built to last.

The front was the only room with a fireplace, so Pike told Grog to put their… guest? Discovery? Mystery woman? There and build up a fire while she gathered blankets. They didn’t have many, but between the layers and the fire, the woman began to warm after a few minutes. A few minutes after that, she stirred, shifting under the soft nest they’d built around her. Pike watched as her eyes fluttered, then snapped open. The woman sat bolt upright, the blankets falling away, leaving only Grog’s coat to preserve her modesty. She looked frantically around the room, chest heaving with panicked breaths.

“Whoa, whoa, it’s okay!” Pike said. She knelt in front of the woman, hands spread in a calming motion. “It’s okay, you’re safe.”

The woman stared at Pike. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my house. We found you.” The woman looked over Pike’s shoulder. Her eyes widened and she scrabbled back. Pike turned and saw Grog standing, a steaming mug in his hands. “It’s okay!” she said, turning back to the woman. “This is Grog, he lives here, too. He helped me bring you here.”

Slowly, Grog walked over and knelt down next to Pike. “Here,” he said, holding out the mug. Pike recognized the smell wafting out of it: Pawpaw Wilhand’s secret cocoa recipe. “Drink this. It’ll help with the cold.”

Warily, the woman leaned forward and plucked the mug from Grog’s hands. She curled around the warm clay, raising it to her lips for a sip.

Her eyes widened. “It’s sweet!” She took another drink, this one longer, her face lit up with almost childlike wonder.

“So, uh.” Grog shifted, settling in to sit on the floor, legs crossed. “What… what happened to you?”

“Grog!” Pike shoved him, to no discernable effect. “She doesn’t have to talk about it if she doesn’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay.” The woman set the mug down carefully and pulled Grog’s coat tighter around herself. “I was… with my family. A friend of mine, and I… He wanted to… There was something happening, that he thought was… Bad. Dangerous. We were going to check it out together, but…” She ducked her head, pulling her knees up to her chest. “We got separated. I don’t know what happened to him. And then I ended up… here, I guess.”

Pike frowned. “Do your family live nearby? Can we get in touch with them, let them know you’re alright?”

The woman shook her head. “No. They’re not…” She smiled, barely. “They’re not especially easy to find.”

Pike frowned harder. “Then… I don’t know, can we help you? We can get you some clothes, at least, something to eat, maybe a place to stay for a little while....” She trailed off, the enormity of her helplessness overwhelming her. “Do you need anything? I don’t-” She bit her lip. “I mean, I don’t even know your _name_ -”

“Keyleth.”

Pike looked up. The woman’s chin rested on her knees, her copper-gold hair spilling around her shoulders. She smiled.

“My name is Keyleth.”


	2. you said nothing as you saw me looking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> onward we go.
> 
> chapter title, once again, from "still catch the tide."

With the revelation of her name, Keyleth seemed to have spent all of her energy for the time being. Shortly after finishing her cocoa, she curled up beneath the nest of blankets and fell into a heavy sleep. 

“Is it alright, her passing right back out again?” Grog leaned against the wall of the kitchen, eyes on the spray of red hair spilling out from the layers of fabric.

Pike nodded. “She needs rest. Whatever else may have happened, her body needs time to recover from spending that long in the cold.”

“Right, that’s another thing.” Grog scratched at his beard, a familiar habit of his whenever a matter required intense thought. “How come she washed up all naked? We’ve seen folks what’s fallen overboard and the like, an’ they all kept their clothes on. And they knew how they got there, mostly. Or they remembered pretty quick.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, Grog.” The truthful answer, that Keyleth hadn’t told them everything, seemed too obvious to be worth stating. “But that’s a good point. She’ll need clothes.” She walked over and nudged him with an elbow. “D’you think you can run over to Vex’s, ask to borrow some of her things? Any clothes of mine will be too small, and she can’t wear your coat forever.”

Grog nodded. “Yeah, alright.” He moved to the door and knelt, tugging his boot back on for the walk to the next closest house. When he was done, he straightened. “Hey, Pike?”

“Yeah?”

He opened his mouth, shut it again. “Be careful, alright?”

Pike laughed. “I think I can handle one unconscious woman, Grog.”

“Yeah, but-” He stopped, shook his head. “Whatever. I’ll be back in a bit.” And then he opened the door and was gone. 

Pike bit her lip. It was sweet, how Grog worried about her. Even though he was the one always getting into trouble, and she the one getting him out of it.

Well. Mostly.

She sighed. It was a good half hour’s walk from their house to the twins’, if Grog pushed his speed, which meant she had at least an hour and half to herself.

Herself and Keyleth.

“Where’s he going?”

Pike yelped and spun on her heels. Keyleth stood, Grog’s coat wrapped around her, falling halfway to her knees, head tilted as she considered Pike from much closer than Pike had expected her to be.

Pike took a step back. “To our neighbors’. To borrow some clothes for you.”

Keyleth nodded. “Clothes. Right. I need those.” It sounded like an afterthought, something she’d just remembered, having dismissed it previously as unimportant. 

With that, Keyleth turned and walked back into the front room. Her bare feet made next to no noise on the wooden floorboards, and the light from the main windows silhouetted her frame, sparking sections of her hair with copper and gold. Then Pike blinked, and she was a woman again, in a too-large coat, with hair matted and salt-crusted, and skin that shivered with goosepimples.

“Here.” Pike moved to the fireplace, added another log. “You should stay in front of the fire. You still need to warm up.”

Keyleth nodded. “Thanks.” She sat, tucking her long legs under herself. “I’m not used to being this cold.”

“Is it not cold where you’re from?”

Keyleth shook her head. “No.” She frowned. “Or- I guess it is, I’m just- able to deal with it better, there.” She shook her head. “If that makes any sense.”

It didn’t, to Pike at least, but she let it go. “Are you hungry?” She moved into the kitchen and began pulling out dishes. “We don’t have much, nothing fancy, but I’m sure I can put together something.”

“If it’s not too much trouble.” Keyleth shifted, pulling her knees up under the coat to draw them against her chest. “I don’t want to be in your way.”

“No, no, that’s not it at all!” Pike pointed emphatically in Keyleth’s direction with the ladle she’d just pulled out of a drawer. “I promise, it’s no trouble. Honestly, it’s sort of a habit, taking in strays at this point.”

Keyleth smiled. “Really?”

Pike smiled back. “Really.” She turned back to the counter, assembling the ingredients for an extra large pot of stew. Good, hearty food, Pawpaw used to say, could cure just about anything, body or soul. 

From behind her, Pike heard the faint rustling of cloth. This time, it was no surprise when Keyleth stepped tentatively into her line of vision. “When will your husband be back?” she asked.

Pike blinked. “My-  _ Grog? _ ” She laughed so loudly Keyleth jumped, her body folding in on itself as if preparing for attack. “No, no, it’s okay,” Pike said, between ongoing giggles, “it’s just- he’s not my husband. At all.”

Keyleth flushed. “Oh. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- it’s just, you live together, and he doesn’t- you don’t exactly look-”

“-like we’re related?” Pike finished. Keyleth nodded, and Pike shrugged. “We’re not, technically. We sort of- adopted him, my grandfather and I, when Grog and I were young. We grew up together.” She smiled. “He’s my big brother, you know? Blood’s got nothing to do with it.”

Keyleth nodded slowly. “Yeah. I get that.”

She looked away, her expression falling as her eyes lost focus, gaze turning to something Pike couldn’t see, and Pike remembered the look on her face when she mentioned her friend, before. 

Slowly, she reached out and placed a hand on Keyleth’s arm. “We’ll get you back to your family,” she said. 

Keyleth took a shaky breath. “You can’t promise that.”

“Why not?”

Keyleth looked at her. “You don’t know- you don’t know anything about me.”

Pike shrugged. “You seem alright. You need help. That’s enough for me.”

Keyleth shifted. Pike looked down at her bare legs, one knee bent as she leaned against the kitchen counter, then looked away again very quickly. “How can I help?” Keyleth said.

Pike grinned. “Glad you asked.”

Within the hour, Keyleth was dicing vegetables like a champion. Pike kept the warm glow of satisfaction in her chest to herself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's gonna be a plot at some point, i promise

**Author's Note:**

> god i haven't written femslash in foreverrrrrrrrrrrr this is gonna be so good for me, i can tell


End file.
